


Another Face

by Lassarina



Category: Persona 4
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-02
Updated: 2011-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-14 08:29:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lassarina/pseuds/Lassarina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's ready to reclaim this part of herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Face

Rise checks her outfit in the mirror again. She shouldn't be so nervous—it's Souji, and she's so comfortable with him—but she is. It's not him, but what she plans to do.

Well, standing here staring at her reflection definitely isn't helping her. She flashes her trademark Risette smile at the mirror, and watches it soften into the smile she keeps for Souji. She can do this.

She set up this date weeks ago, when she found out the dates she'd be doing concerts in Tokyo. Much to her delight, Souji was happy to meet her. They've seen each other a few times over the last three years—never as much as Rise wants to, but he's never found someone else, at least as far as she knows. She straightens the edge of her jacket and grabs her purse, and goes to meet him.

They have dinner at her favourite restaurant, and then she talks him into going back to her hotel room instead of out dancing. She loves dancing, but the kind she has in mind for him isn't best done in public.

"Usually you want to go out," he observes when she shuts the door behind them.

This is the hard part. "I—"

He raises an eyebrow at her, but doesn't say anything else. He's always been good at that, at being a great listener unless she really needs him to say something, and it's steadying to know some things don't change. "I want to dance for you." It comes out all in a rush and she's not even sure those were comprehensible words individually. He seems to sort them out, though, because he rests his hands on her hips like they're in a club just for the two of them.

She steps back and shakes her head, but with a smile. Then she points to the bed. _That_ really gets his eyebrows arching, but he goes, and sits perched on the edge facing her. Perfect.

If she half-closes her eyes, she can remember the beat of the club inside the TV. Most of the time she doesn't want to, but this is like a reclamation. It's on her terms, this time.

She starts with her jacket, and shrugs it off with a movement of her shoulders that looks casual but can't fail to draw attention to her chest. Souji's not immune; she watches his eyes trail downward before he turns them back to her face. She gives her best inviting smile, letting her body move to the beat in her mind. It's a fierce, driving rhythm, like sex. And, like sex, she can feel the heat starting to pulse between her legs. Next is the tiny black wrap-around skirt. It splits high on her thigh as she dances, and she toys with the tie just to stretch out the moment. Timing is everything; after so long in show business she should know that.

The skirt falls away to pool at her feet, leaving her in a pair of black lace underwear that's more a shadow than a garment, silky black stockings, her heeled boots, and her blouse. Souji swallows hard. Rise just lets her body move to the beat in her head, her hips moving easily in time. She takes her time undoing the buttons of her blouse, first the top one and then the bottom, alternating to slow the reveal. Souji can't take his eyes off her, and it feels good to be the center of attention because she _wants_ to be.

She'd swear he actually licked his lips when she shrugs off the shirt with the same twist of her shoulders. The bra is like the panties: more show than substance. For a while she just lets herself dance. She sways closer and tugs off his shirt, knows it puts her breasts at his eye level. He lifts his hands and brushes his fingertips against her sides. She slips back, still swaying, and bends forward to unzip her boots. The stockings follow in short order, and she's really ready now.

When she speaks, it's oddly disruptive to the beat in her head. "Take off your pants," she says, and sees him startle like she wanted to. He listens, though, and she lets the last bits of lace fall.

Now she lets him touch as much as he wants, and it's perfect. She throws her head back and rides him to the same beat of the music, and for the first time since they found her in the TV, the memory of her true self doesn't make her faintly embarrassed and disgusted; it's just another part of her, another face.


End file.
